Free Web NovelKobe World Memorial Hall.
We stepped onto the stage and surveyed it for the final rehearsal.
“Waaaah....”
It was huge. Not as large as the Olympic Gymnastics Arena in Korea, but it felt immense to us. Viju, scanning the chairs on the floor level and the seats in the second tier, asked:
“Hyung, you said this is nine thousand seats, right?”
“Probably.”
“Wow. That’s really a lot of people.”
We clicked our tongues and took it all in—about 9,000 seats. Last summer, our Seoul concert at the Handball Gym drew around 5,000. Nine thousand is nearly double that, our largest solo show yet. My heart pounded.
“Hoo—”
We all took deep breaths, bodies trembling with nerves. Even though the heating inside was on, I felt a chill, as if we’d stepped outside. If you could see our breath, it would come out in jagged little puffs.
While we calmed our breathing, Jiho suddenly freaked out.
“Aaah, I’m shaking. I’m so nervous...!”
That set us off—“Aaah!”
“Me too!”
“I’m super nervous!”
“Same!”
We all twisted and shivered like an agitated penguin huddle in the Arctic. Laughing, it actually helped ease the tension.
“Are you all super nervous?”
“Yes.”
We turned to see Manager Won-seok filming us. He was shooting behind-the-scenes footage for the Japan concert DVD.
“I thought after touring so many countries last year, we’d be used to this.”
“Is it different?”
“I’m still just as nervous.”
Viju, arm around my shoulder, bobbed his head out and pretended to shiver. I laughed at the camera.
“I think we’ll still be shaking even at our 70th anniversary dinner show. Before an audience, this will never change.”
“Seventieth anniversary?” Jiho interrupted.
“By then, we’ll be shaking for a whole different reason.”
“There might not even be five of us by then,” Ri-hyeok quipped, and we roared with laughter.
The staff finished checking equipment and gave us hand signals. We grouped at center stage, each taking a microphone.
“One, two, three! Hello! We’re NewBlack!”
“The weather’s pretty cold, right? Thanks for being here today after yesterday’s rehearsal!”
The lights rotated on as we took our positions for choreography. A few hours before showtime, the director approached the mic.
“Let’s start the music.”
The opening bars of “Nine” began through the concert sound system. We watched each other’s focused faces, then spread our arms toward the audience. Soon, we’d finally reveal the results of months of practice. My chest tightened, then ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) my heart raced with excitement.
Outside the venue.
The winter chill that had gripped us recently had largely faded, replaced by a pleasant warmth under a clear sky. A serpentine line stretched along the street.
“Where’s the trading-card line?”
“It’s over by the sports center side—though that might be for other merch.”
“My heart might burst—I’m so nervous.”
Lively chatter erupted everywhere. Staff with megaphones darted around organizing lines. While we rehearsed inside, the merch queue had been noisy from early morning.
“Wow, there are so many foreigners here.”
“Really, it’s amazing.”
“Student exchange folks? No, more than that...”
Many came from other parts of Asia, but I also spotted fans who looked Western. Excited whispers spread:
“So the U.S. popularity rumors are true?”
“Apparently the ‘cow moo’ is a universal laugh trigger.”
“Even aliens would find that funny.”
Amid the buzz, fans talked about us:
“When I got my soufflé bread, Woo-ju smiled at me—I think he made eye contact.”
“Ri-hyeok is so cute—I want to fold him up and carry him in my wallet.”
“I was at last year’s K-pop concert—seeing Viju dance is like butterflies flying.”
“What is Jiho saying in that Japanese video?”
“You know, you know—have you seen ‘Junghyun vs. the Rest’?”
They laughed over photos on their phones and merch. There’s a moment before a show when your heart feels ready to burst, like you have to say something.
“Finally...!”
This was NewBlack’s first solo concert here. How long fans had waited—having gradually stanned us via TV or MTube, envying news of shows in Hong Kong, Singapore, Australia, the U.S., or last year’s sweepstakes tour in Korea. What they wanted most was:
“I just want to see them perform live.”
Video could wow them, but they’d always wondered what the real thing would be like. “Soon....”
Fans shifted between merch lines to gather all the goods they could. Then:
“Look at this line.”
“No way—how do we even?”
Korean fans arriving saw the endless queue. Last summer’s handball show had long lines, but this was double the size. Even if stocks were ample, they’d sell out fast. Watching Japanese fans hoard merch, Korean fans shook their heads.
“They’re spending money like water.”
Eventually they prioritized—some queued for trading cards, others for key merch. Familiar faces greeted each other.
“Hello, Mr. Bonbu Daegil.”
“Mrs. Wunebok, hi.”
“Woo-ju, your face is welfare,” one fan’s SNS handle, exchanged awkward smiles.
“It’s amazing, isn’t it? I heard they’re big here, but arena from the first show—wow.”
“I heard TV coverage helped, but actually MTube is the root cause.”
“Really?”
Remembering they’d stan us via MTube, fans nodded.
“On the way, I saw a NewBlack car in the parking lot.”
“A NewBlack car?”
They showed us a photo of a car with the members’ images and autographed stickers on the hood. Some cars even had “Baby on Board”–style decals of our giggling faces.
“You wouldn’t want to ride in that recklessly.”
“Better wear earplugs first.” ƒгeewёbnovel.com
They laughed and moved to the entrance line.
“By summer in Japan, they’ll be in a gymnastics arena, right?”
“One hundred percent.”
“I hope so. I heard they’re renovating the arena soon....”
Chatter about a possible Korea summer concert—late spring or early summer—drifted by. Then, as seating began:
We waved at each other, heading along the aisle to our seats. “Good view.” On the second tier, a seat slightly blocked by overhead rigging still offered a full stage view. The overall set design was strikingly sophisticated. As the video screens played the MV soundtrack, the floor and balcony seats began to fill. By now, fans online were surely posting photos of the crowd.
“Ugh...”
Thinking about nasty antis, I shook my head and looked back to the stage. When seating concluded, the house sound system transitioned.
“Waaaah—!” fгeewebnovёl.com
Lights dimmed gradually. In the darkness, thousands of glow sticks waved in unison—a stunning sight that sent goosebumps across me. I thought, “Yes—it’s really happening.”
“Waaaah—!”
Amid the roar, the main screen lit up with the opening VCR, in a stylish black-and-white motif. The very first shot: our maknae sitting arrogantly, staring down at the camera. The crowd erupted. He sat backwards in a chair, hand draping over the back, and under his seat bright red liquid oozed—a stark splash of color in monochrome. Red bracelets on his wrist, the only color in the VCR, pulsed like a warning.
“Waaaah—!”
The next VCRs introduced each member: the main dancer stretching like waking to a fresh morning; then, in a serene black-and-white garden, watering forsythia blooms from a yellow teapot. The rapper holding an upside-down emerald sand timer, peering into it. Each wore colored contact lenses matching their personal hues.
“Waaaah—!”
Then the main vocalist appeared painting a canvas with bold blue strokes; she turned just enough to show part of her face. Finally, the leader lay on a violet-tinged rug, hand over his face.
“Waaaah—!”
He lifted his hand to reveal it, and a digital butterfly fluttered from his palm. One by one, the members’ VCRs finished, replaced by the concert title in ornate script:
[Five Colors]
The BGM swelled. The stage was completely dark. Thousands of glow sticks waved like stars. Then, with a swift “Ta-at—,” the five entrance columns at stage front blazed to life, revealing NewBlack bowed at center—silhouetted against the bright light. Shadows on the screen formed a massive silhouette of us.
Another “Ta-at—,” lights out, then back on:
Like statues in the dark, we each shifted pose in a quick tableau. The audience’s quick-eyed recognized the intro music as a rearrangement of “Masquerade.” Cheers erupted as the entrance lights blinked out.
Just before the song proper began, our special intro ended and lights revealed the sub-vocalist at left. Under soft red light, his close-up appeared on the screen.
“In the silent music...
Remove your mask...
Show me your smile...”
His slow hand motions across his face changed his expression as though flipping through a painting—hypnotically alluring. Fans gasped in delight. He froze in that pose, then the spotlight hit the main dancer next to him. Under a golden glow, his hair looked like strands of gold as he gently waved.
“Waaaah—!”
The rapper’s short rap led into the vocalist’s chorus, the decibels climbing. Lastly, the leader turned in a graceful spin as if dotting an “i” with his final pose. Before the actual opening number even began, the roaring volume left staff mouths agape.
“Ta-a-at—!”
Lights flashed across the hall, then went dark. In the hush, we walked out into formation, lights blinking rhythmically as our five arms extended like fans.
“Waaaah—!”
The intro ended, and we broke into our positions for “Masquerade.”
And then:
“......!”
Less than ten seconds into the song, Japanese soufflé fans realized why reports of our live show had been so glowing: it was beyond anything they’d expected.
After the opening and subsequent stages:
“Hah, hah...”
“Aigo....”
Our panting voices carried through the mics. The fans responded with cheers. We drank water from stage bottles, then took mics again.
“One, two, three!”
“Hello! We’re NewBlack!”
Our waves drew huge cheers.
“Wow—the screens are enormous.”
We turned backward, waving to our own silhouettes, and fans laughed.
“Welcome to NewBlack’s Japan Concert, Five Colors! I’m your leader, Woo-ju.”
“I’m main dancer Viju!”
“I’m Junghyun, NewBlack’s rapper.”
Each introduction got a roar. We had Japanese prompts on teleprompters, but after days of memorizing, it flowed naturally.
“Waaaah—!”
With so many people, each shout felt like a brush of wind on our skin. We removed our in-ear monitors to savor the sound. Ri-hyeok smiled.
“It’s been a while since we did a big show—we’re so happy. Are you happy?!”
A monumental “Yes!” thundered back. Ri-hyeok spoke easily in Japanese. I took the mic:
“Before the show, I wondered if we could fill this huge hall, but...thank you so much for coming.”
Our main dancer’s eyes glistened; fans answered with an even louder roar. I leaned to Viju:
“Don’t cry, Viju.”
“I feel like I’ll cry from the start.”
At once, cheerful maknae Jiho piped up:
“I feel the same way!”
His wide grin betrayed that he understood nothing of what we’d said—audiences laughed. I pointed behind me:
“Jiho, just speak in Korean.”
“Oh! Right.”
From backstage, our interpreter’s gentle voice came:
“Please speak in Korean, Jiho.”
“May I?”
We stifled laughs as Jiho waved to the audience.
“The concert makes me so happy! I feel like I could die from how good it is!”
He paused on “feel like I could die,” and the interpreter’s face must have gone pale, sweat dripping as she tried to convey “I love it so much I could die.” The sudden severity made us burst out laughing—and so did the fans.
“Love youuu—!”
A bellowing shout from a male fan set off more laughter.
“We love you, too!”
Jung-hyeon looked around and asked:
“Guys, how many male fans are here?”
“That’s a great idea—male soufflés, shout once!”
“Yooo-hoo!”
Through a chorus of deep voices—like football fans at a girl group—the crowd roared. We laughed.
“Oh, this is so much fun from the start.”
It paid off having practiced Japanese. Every comment drew immediate audience reactions.
“So, did you like the opening?”
“Yes!”
“Our maknae loved it—how about you?”
A tide of “Yes!” confirmed it.
“It might feel strange to see us do something so cool after a while.”
“But actually, this is our job.”
We laughed, promised more amazing performances, and took in every corner of the hall. I vowed to remember every moment: the glow-stick flicker at the back of tier two; someone falling backward laughing in the front row; my brothers’ lines as I watched the crowd.
“Now, shall we make unforgettable memories together?”
The audience’s smiles and cheers showed they were thinking the same thing.
As our leader said, the first show in Kobe became an unforgettable memory for everyone.
“Waaaah—!”
Fans shook their glow sticks until their arms cramped—yet no one felt any pain in the moment. Later we’d realize our throats were hoarse and arms aching, but not then.
“Waaaah...”
I watched each member—so much to see that I didn’t know where to look. There was Jiho in the opening, but also Ri-hyeok’s high notes in “Hibernate,” making ears tingle; Viju swirling in “Windflower” with a tender smile; Junghyun’s commanding solo rap; and the leader’s wave across the hall during “Nine.” I thought every second, “I’m glad we came.”
Two hours flew by in a flash.
“Waaaah—!”
After our filmed message to fans rolled for the encore, we launched into the first encore song.
“It’s late, but Merry Christmas!”
“We love you!”
We climbed onto our moving stage cart. Navigating between rows, we waved to fans on floors one and two. And then:
“Hm...?”
Fans blinked, then burst out laughing. Instead of a motorized cart, staff were physically pushing it like a sleigh. On their heads, staff wore blinking red reindeer antler headbands. We rode the sled, calling “Ho! Ho! Ho!”:
“Merry Christmas!”
We beamed, tossing signed balls like snowfall, while the staff pushed us along. It felt delightfully wicked, like a mischievous Santa.
It truly was a concert no one would ever forget.
